


logically (i know you are gone)

by kingsofneon



Series: horny reading list [22]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Fire Powers, Forced Masturbation, Heavy Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, One-Sided Relationship, Temperature Play, seemingly unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsofneon/pseuds/kingsofneon
Summary: Sabo ends up having a few control problems when using his devil fruit.(Ace's fruit.)
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Sabo
Series: horny reading list [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641943
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	logically (i know you are gone)

**Author's Note:**

> **anon: I had a sad thought! After Sabo gets his Fruit, he jacks off with fire to pretend it's Ace/to feel closer to Ace now that Ace is dead???**
> 
> :) what an ask.

Growing up, Sabo wasn’t actually afraid of fire. Sure, his face and chest were burnt to shit, and he couldn’t feel anything properly through his left hand, but amnesia had taken away more than his name: he didn’t remember the fire, or the sea, or burning alive, and wasn’t it just _funny_ that in the moment he lost his family he got back fucking _trauma?_

It was like a punishment: you’re scared of everything they represent, they could’ve burnt in the Grey Terminal just like you burnt in the sea, your amnesia spared you all of that fear, and wasn’t that just great? Isn’t it great, isn’t it odd, what he gained?

Memories of his family and an inability see videos of Ace alive because Ace _burns._

And now Sabo has his fruit and isn’t it cute that with a flick of his hand he can summon Ace’s fire, can stare into the flames with ice dripping down his back and his mind showing him fragments of someone long dead. 

He blinks, dots dancing in his vision, and the fire fades to outline his hand, dimming the light in Sabo’s room.

He has Ace’s fruit. Now he needs Ace’s confidence.

(Now he just wants Ace; just wants a fraction of a second to-)

He’s shaky as he wraps his hand around his cock. Logically, he knows it’s just his hand. That the devil fruit is _his_ now, that he can’t be burnt. That it can’t hurt.

Logically, he knows that thinking his family has burnt to death and then being blown up in an explosion that took away half his vision is going to leave it’s own scars.

Neither of those thoughts stop the sharp breath that escapes him at the sensation of fire licking at his skin.

It can’t hurt. It can’t hurt.

He closes his eyes, and tightens his grip, letting his imagination take charge. 

“Ace,” he whispers, feeling his body tremble and shake apart as he runs his hand up his cock slowly, knowing that this is his own hand but still unused to the heat. Knowing it’s his own hand but-

For now, still able to pretend it’s not. That Ace is here, warm and willing, that Ace is in front of him and running his thumb over the tip of Sabo’s cock, his fire a deadly, contained promise.

(For now he can pretend this:

That isn’t using Ace’s devil fruit to get closer to someone who didn’t even know he existed, who kissed him once when they were seven and then never let them kiss again, who did not love him but who _loved_ him, except they-)

A cracked whimper slips free of him, his hand tightening, and he feels his hips jolt up into the tight grip. Nothing can stop the terrifying knowledge of _fire,_ pressed too hot and too close _._ The knowledge that this is going to hurt, and badly, and he will be scarred again.

But if there was anyone in this world he trusted, it would be Ace. And Ace would _never_ hurt him. He’d had two years of practice with the mera mera, and if Sabo asked for this-

If he asked for this, Ace would help. If Sabo said _please,_ Ace would get on his knees and look up at him and say _whatever you need._ He’d set aside his own feelings, hold his hands open and outstretched, and _promise._

_I’ve got you, Sabo._

Fuck. Sabo jolts again, a harsh breath punched out of him as he thrusts into his loose grip, feeling fire lick at his skin like extra fingers, like Ace is there with him, and he feels the beginning of tears in his eyes before he forces them to evaporate, the sensation of smoke tickling his eyelashes.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking, trembling, “Ace, please-”

(He doesn’t know if it’s in his head or if the mera mera lets him have this one moment, to summon the remnants of Ace’s spirit. _Logically_ it’s his head.

Illogically, he lets the tears drip down his cheeks and fire shaped like fingers gently brush them away.)

_Sabo, you can do this. You’ve just gotta trust me, okay? I know you can do it._

He whimpers brokenly, hand too tight, too rough, the friction and heat so unlike Ace that he feels himself breaking his own heart. “I can’t.”

_You can,_ says the memory of Ace’s voice. He’s so much- _more,_ in Sabo’s thoughts, as Sabo layers his own dreams into Ace’s history, praying for an Ace that grew in to his magnetism, his strength. _You’ve got me. We’re in it together._

(For a moment, too long, achingly long, he can believe it. For a moment, he thinks about legends and fairy tales and _hope,_ thinks about Ace, strong enough to defy a whole world that wanted him dead, thinks about the three of them raising those tiny red cups to the sky and _vowing_ to be inseparable, through fire and time and death).

_It’s not like you can get rid of your own fantasies._

**Author's Note:**

> reeeeeeview hell yeah


End file.
